


Lace leads the way

by amarmeme



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Dragon Age: Inquisition - Jaws of Hakkon DLC, F/M, First Kiss, Freckles, Nerd Bram, Sex, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 04:01:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26346772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amarmeme/pseuds/amarmeme
Summary: Lace can't sleep and it seems like Professor Kenric's light is still on. Should she go have a visit?
Relationships: Lace Harding/Bram Kenric
Comments: 16
Kudos: 33
Collections: Black Emporium 2020





	Lace leads the way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hurdlelocker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurdlelocker/gifts).



The forest is loud, far too loud for Lace to get any sleep. The trees sigh and sway in the breeze, giant crickets chirp _right outside_ of her tent. The distant rumblings of a large gurgut come from north of camp; the fellow is always gurgling at night. 

Lace stumbles out with bleary eyes and a sour mouth. One of theirs died yesterday — a young scout with a promising future, dashed by a Hakkon arrow. Too many people are losing their lives under watch and she can’t shake the feeling this mission might be over her head. It's probably too big for anyone other than the Inquisitor, who will arrive any day now, as long as the river stays clear. 

She heads to the center of camp, where a well has been dug by her team. She pulls up a bucket of water and scoops a hand inside, bringing the cool, refreshing drink to her lips. Another scoop and she feels marginally better. Past the well and up on the slight rise is the professor’s hut. A light blazes from his front window and she can see him bent over a tome or buckle or some kind of puzzle. 

He’s such a hoot, the professor. When Josie said she was to help a professor from Orlais, Lace had pictured a wrinkled old noble that would poke and prod, demanding her attention. Bram is anything but those things. Straight away she liked him, not only because he kept calling her “Lady,” but because he knew how to laugh and keep things light. Plus, he was nice to look at.

Driven by some kind of night-madness, Lace lowers the bucket back into the well and heads up to the professor’s hut. Maybe she’ll be able to sneak up on Bram and make him yelp. The last time was highly satisfying. 

The door is firmly shut though, and as Lace approaches, she thinks it is probably best to knock. His shriek is ungainly and she’d hate to wake anyone else in camp. One, two, three raps on the door and Lace spies him moving away from his place before the window. She can hear his footsteps cross the small one-room hut and anticipation clenches in her stomach. 

“Lady Harding,” he says, opening the door. He doesn’t have his hat on and the shock of unruly red curls makes Lace squirm with want. Bram is the only person she knows with more freckles than her. “I didn’t wake you?”

“No, no,” she replies. “I was already awake. I saw your light on.” _And hoped you’d be happy to see me,_ she thinks. 

The answering smile is all she needs to feel assured in her plan. Bram opens the door wider and sweeps a hand back to welcome her inside. 

“I can’t sleep either.” His eyes twinkle with excitement. Lace loves this look on him, the way something so minor to her is so exciting to Bram. “I think your scouts discovered something rather impressive. Here, let me show you.”

He crosses the room in an instant and Lace shuts the door quietly behind them. Bram leans over his desk. Filled with books and buckles and pages and pages of notes, the desk contains everything a travelling professor needs to keep busy and out of harm’s way. Lace can’t be sure what it is he’s fixated on, but in drawing closer to his side spies a piece of metal with a bit of rust. It’s shaped like a hilt though, if you squint, maybe. 

“I think it may be a piece of weaponry,” he says, touching Lace on the arm and encouraging her to examine it closer. “The rust will need to be removed carefully, but it looks period appropriate. Here,” he points to a squiggle, “that would be the arch of the original Inquisition symbol.”

“If you say so,” Lace laughs, stepping back from the table. “I’m just happy we could help. All the Hakkon activity is making it hard to conduct any searches.” 

The corner of his mouth dips ever so slightly, his warm hand clasping her in sympathy. “I’m sorry for your losses, Lady Harding.” 

A little lump in her throat is dutifully ignored. There’s no time for that. The job is loss, and what matters is that no one was lost in vain. She can’t keep having him call her Lady Harding, especially when the Inquisitor shows up, as much as she likes it. Lace is afraid she’ll blush or reveal herself if he keeps on treating her that way. 

“Just Lace. You can call me Lace.”

“I like that,” he replies, hand now smoothing her arm. She likes it a lot. “There’s much you can glean from the patterns of lace, when the artifacts are preserved. Which is rare, just like, ah,” he clears his throat, “you are.”

A fierce blush covers her entire face. Was the professor flirting with her in his own way? His handsome face colors sweetly and that confirms it. Lace isn’t sure what to do now. She’d hoped the late night excursion would turn this way, but what was she supposed to do now she was in the middle of it? Still connected by his hand on her arm, Lace thinks to clasp it, reassuringly. Once she does, they still remain awkwardly silent. 

What if she just kissed him? That would be alright, wouldn’t it?

Trusting her instinct so far, Lace stands on her tiptoes and pulls the professor down by his collar. He’s not too slow on the uptick and bends forward to meet her halfway, lips pressing against hers softly. A surge of desire floods her veins. Bram moves his hands to her hair, which is down for once, flowing over her shoulders. The kiss goes on and on, the piece of metal forgotten, the fallen soldier put out of her mind for now. Lace thinks it's possibly the best decision she’s ever made, aside from joining the Inquisition. 

He pulls back for a moment, wonder in his eyes as if she’s another discovery. 

“Should we--” she says, while he asks the same. Both smile widely and Lace pushes Bram back toward his bed, shoving playful as his calves touch the frame. 

“ _Lady_ Harding,” he teases, false admonishment in his voice.

“Oh stop that.” She grins, joining him on the bed. 

They’re a mixture of clumsy and sweet, brash and shy. Lace likes to lead until she doesn’t anymore, and Bram really does well with direction. They touch with hands and tongues and explore gently with one another, a kiss against an inner thigh, a tug on a gentle spot. They join together with a rush of eager anticipation, hands fumbling and laughs exchanged. Lace thinks she can see the stars even through the roof, and swears Bram says something similar. He rumbles sweet nothings against her neck, in that accent that makes her think of whiskey cakes on a warm summer evening. 

It is perfect. And after, as he strokes her side, she rests against his chest and feels herself drifting off to sleep.

Best decision ever.

**Author's Note:**

> These two are so damn cute and I always mean to write them. I'm glad I wrote this little treat and hope you enjoy it!!


End file.
